


Blood On The Mirror

by Hexworthy



Series: Kolivance AU Event 2018 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Demon AU, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, a very lovely goat, just a good happy fic, just tooth rotting fluff, kolivance - Freeform, kolivance au event, kolivanceauevent, set in england and gratuitous use of local folklore, staying together, the goat really is the true mvp here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexworthy/pseuds/Hexworthy
Summary: Demon Au for The Kolivance Au EventKolivan moved to the countryside for his job and to relax. Sort of.  He didn't exactly question why he got the house as cheaply as he did or how, but he probably have should been a bit more concerned when things start to happen that he doesn't remember doing. But he catches a glimpse of blue eyes and then nothing.AKA - Kolivan is your average suburban white mum with a twist!





	Blood On The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this!!! Thanks to PurpleSpaceMom for beta'ing and being great!!!
> 
> Theres a lil note at the end too. Enjoy!

Kolivan had moved into the house no problems; nothing got lost or damaged, and the deeds were quite literally thrown at him as the previous owner absconded off into the distance with little more than a “good luck”. He assumed the place came as cheap as it did because of some of the issues - the wallpaper for one. It was fuck ugly. So was the carpet and maybe there was some work to be done but not so much that it was the price it was. The building was an old victorian farmhouse with an extension to what was once a barn in the south of England in the middle of Dartmoor. Timber framing held up the walls of the old farmhouse. He had purchased the farm in hope to get away from everything. He was still in the general vicinity of a city if the need arose, and his friends were in driving distance. The village was quaint and the people were polite if a little bit wary. 

The first day in there, he had another walk around and had a surveyor ensure that there was no structural damage. In the end it was only the decoration that needed to be done. Considering the age and the amount of weathering that the house had endured, they were both surprised at how well it had been kept, despite the long line of previous tenants. 

In the end, he got the supplies easy enough to redecorate. As he moved all the furniture in, it began to feel more like a home, his home. He kept on the employees the last farmer had, and he had more than enough money to maintain the place. The only reason he could do any of this was the money that he had inherited from his grandfather who was slightly estranged and recently deceased. Oddly enough, the only other thing that was left to him was a blade that could be described as a family heirloom

That extra money kept the sheep and horses healthy, and he could manage the finances of the riding school well enough, even if all the animals were shit scared of the area. Kolivan just put it down to them being nervous around him. But the stables were at the other end of the farm as the horses refused to go near him or the house. The sheep just stayed clear all together. The pet goat the house came with was surprisingly ok with everything. She was rather affectionate even if she had the habit of looking just behind him. He learned soon enough her name was Goatee after one of the farm hands kept getting demands for scratches. 

The first week went well; he took the wallpaper down and striped the wall back to the bare stone, the fire place was restored, and everything was in its proper place. 

That's when strange-ish things started to happen. Nothing major but enough to be noticed if Kolivan looked hard enough. 

It was the small things. Items were rearranged. Kolivan was sure he had put the sugar bowl next to the tea bags, but he found it in the cupboard over with the baking. The butter he had definitely put in the fridge was out on the counter. Cups and mugs were upside down rather than rightside up. Then there was the massive spider trapped under a glass which he really didn't do. It was on the coffee table in the living room, a long way from where he had placed the glass the night before. 

Kolivan had honestly seen some shit. He was living in Dartmoor, the closest village being Hexworthy, and there were tales. Places you wouldn't go and of course the Hairy Hand, which had just enough plausibility for him to not dismiss it completely. One set of grandparents had once lived here and the summer holidays he spent in the moors had given him a healthy sense of respect for it - the terrain and weather of the moors and all the legends that surrounded it. As well as the being who was seemingly rearranging his stuff on a whim. So he decided to do what any respectable person of sound rationale would do. He talked to it. 

“Thanks for the spider, mate, will pop him on the windowsill outside.”

That night he could have sworn there was an extra shadow as he went to close the curtains. The room was bathed in moonlight. Kolivan saw movement, though it could have just been a bat or something. There was a small colony in the small attic space and he kinda liked them. Called them his Blades and decided to give them names after he had a wildlife officer come round to check up on them and help initial protections for them in the loft. 

He could have sworn he heard laughter. 

The weeks went on and nothing much happened, or anything that he noticed at least. He sometimes talked to himself or whatever he thought would listen when he was on his own. He thought everything had calmed down, that it was all just a figment of his imagination. It was an old house after all, but he could explain it away when creepier things happened: the sound of footsteps creaking the floorboards, the ghostly howling, weird shrieking and wailing and a sense that not all was right. 

Three days after the most intense howling and wails, from what he could only describe as the Beast of Dartmoor met a banshee, he decided the worst happened. He had just finished his shower and was making faces in the mirror while grooming himself, then blood writing appeared on the mirror in the bathroom. Each letter carefully written, and he dreaded to think what blood it was. It was a bix between the scarlet of human blood, but dark, thick and almost black. 

_Get Out_

Slightly perturbed, he cleaned it up. It didn't really phase him because he had seen worse at this - walking the bogs had made him see a half decomposed cow that was simultaneously preserved where it had lay under the bog water. That was scary enough with deep gouge marks in the bones. Then there was the history of the moors. Many people had died here, either as bronze age people, miners or escaped prisoners. Ghost stories were rife and a fair few were infinitely more grisly than some blood that had appeared. 

Though it did feel like he was that white suburban mum in any american horror movie and probably the first to die. But he had to live somewhere and this was affordable in terms of the bills and taxes to pay as well as being within walking distances of the ranges, even if it did take an hour to get there. 

“Hey Antok, what do you do if you think your house is haunted?” Kolivan asked his best mate during work. It was lunchtime, and he had too much time to stew on the idea. 

Antok looked him dead in the eye. “Get out. I don't want to be the star in a horror movie where I inherit it and then get murdered too. I am too young and too great to die!” Antok clasped his hand over his heart in a mock faint. Kolivan thwacked him round the head with the tea towel he was using to wash his mugs. He had to do a walk of shame to the kitchen, holding the many mugs that had accumulated on his desk. He was usually organised and rather clean but mugs seemed to be his weakness. 

“KIDDING, I’M KIDDING,” Antok cried, helplessly batting away the offending item. “But don't you think you’re overreacting? It’s an old house. Things are gonna creak and groan. I know you're also gonna forget to do chores or what ever, like _the dishes_ , walking into a room and not getting the thing we want, _the dishes,_ watering the plants, we all do. Do I need to mention your mug hoarding tendency?”

“Antok. There was actual _blood_ on my mirror. Telling me to Get Out.”

“Kolivan, either two things are happening. The first and most likely is you're sleep deprived and imagining it, or it is indeed haunted and you really should get the fuck out.” Antok shook his head as he poured water into his mug. “Just don't make me inherit that place.”

Kolivan was lost in thought for the rest of the day. His job could barely keep his attention. He loved his work with the army, keeping the moors safe and patrolling the ranges that were active. Nobody wanted to be shot at by accident really. But there were times he had to do the office work and _ugh,_ he wanted to be home. 

When he got home, however, he found it trashed. The curtains were in shreds like claws had raked down them. His furniture had similar marks and scorching all over the wood. Only the stone walls appeared unaffected. 

By now any sane person would have run for the hills, but this was Dartmoor. A storm was coming in fast. He had no other choice but to stay. He just hoped that his room wasn't desecrated. He found the stairs hasn't fared much better. The door had a massive hole and splinters littered the floor, but the rest of his room was left untouched if a bit covered in wood dust from the door. 

He curled up as the storm started overhead. The rain lashed the windows and the slate roof, the thunder reverberated around the Tors and hills, and the lightning flashes fought their way through the curtains, illuminating the room. 

He heard soft crying on the winds and thought he saw the figure of a man hunched over when one lightning strike hit the ground particularly close to his house, but the figure was unlike anything he had ever seen: with glowing gold eyes and long, unnaturally spindly limbs and what looked to be teeth the size of knives. A flash of blue went off and then the figure disappeared with an acrid smell as a mix of yellow and blue smoke dissipated into the air. 

Then something strange happened when he woke. The stairs were safe again even if there was no carpet on them. The curtains were back, and the door was fixed. There were still a few scorch marks, but it wasn't anything major. He walked outside to see if anyone had been there that evening but saw no tracks or any evidence that someone had tampered with his locks. 

“Huh, thanks, whoever did this.” He saw that the Goatee was content in the small garden acting like she was being petted. 

He went to work, walking the perimeter of the Okehampton range. He had to stave off a few wanderers who hadn't looked at the time tables. It wasn't as if they made them secret or anything. There were also a few americans that were embarrassingly cringy. Despite spending his formative years in the US, he had spent more of his life in the UK. Primarily on the test bases in the highlands then to the SAS division in Dartmoor. He had chosen to step away from them and was content to work with them instead, ensuring civilian safety and being their lookout on the moors and the general person to go to if they needed anything related to the topography of the moors. His specialism had been cartography and topography afterall. 

He arrived home and stopped in his tracks. A man no older than twenty one stood in his living room, sewing back together one of the curtains. He looked up as the heavy oak door slammed shut in a breeze and promptly disappeared in a puff of blue smoke. But before he did, Kolivan managed to capture the image of incredibly warm tan skin and the most inescapable blue eyes he had ever seen. 

“Thanks, Blue,” he said to the room, hoping that whoever, whatever that figure was heard him. 

It started a pattern. Kolivan began to talk to Blue, even if he was a figment of Kolivan’s imagination. Small things got done. The odd bit of washing up or repairs, nothing major but just as suddenly as the first time, it all went wrong as another attack came. But unlike last time, Kolivan was there to watch it in all its hellish glory.

Another storm had rolled onto the moors from the coast. One spike of lightning hit the conductor he had on his house and then with the same blinding flash, a huge monster emerged from the backlit purple smoke. If he hadn't just been startled awake from a nap on the sofa and shit scared, he would have laughed, but no, the thing had glowing purple eyes and armour that was intricately designed and covered all but the bottom half of the creature’s face. It had a massive sword that he couldn't place, he thought he had seen something like it and very recently but he just could not think where, that kept shifting in the owner's hand to boot.

It let out an unholy growl at the sight of Kolivan and ran forwards yelling. Kolivan braced himself and knew the end was near. He saw the creature raise the sword to bring it down and smite him where he stood.

But the blow never came. A mess of dark brown hair was in front of his braced arms, the sword battling another, a low kick to the creature’s leg made it buckle, and in a cloud of smoke the man disappeared and reappeared behind him, this time with dual pistols shooting at the armour which broke down bit by bit. Then more and more swathes of smoke appeared in shades of red, black, green, yellow, pink, and orange. Then beings emerged from the eddies, stalking down their prey, be it himself or what could only be described as a demon. Each of them had their own form of changing weaponry. Blue then took to the rafters where his own weapon formed an old Enfield rifle that they used to train with, making it act like a sniper. 

Kolivan retreated to the cupboard under the stairs, glad that it only held a coat stand. He watched through the crack in the door as the battle played out, with every blow increasing the ferocity of the fighting. The larger creature seemed to have blade trained on everyone, it moved that fast and unnaturally. Elemental attacks were everywhere, and he could see all of his possessions catch fire as flames spread throughout the house.

Then he realised that he had his own blade up in his room on the mantelpiece. The one his grandfather had left to him, no wonder that dagger the beast wielded looked familiar, it looked to be of the material. He silently opened the door and crept up the stairs, knowing which floorboards to avoid. All he knew about the blade was that it was old and still as sharp as the day it was forged.

He managed to get it and was glad of his military training as he used the distraction all the other beings created. He had noticed that every time the creature moved, a chink in its armour showed at the joints. All he needed was an opening. 

The being who was covered in red and white armour yelled as he rushed the beast, and Kolivan saw his opportunity. The attack worked and managed to shock the creature for a moment and that's all he needed. He charged the beast from behind while it’s dominant hand was flexed, showing the joint, and Kolivan brought the blade down. The arm went limp and the armour covering it dissolved.

_The creature then had its attention on him. Alone, and so very mortal._

But Kolivan had the upper hand. He was quicker to react and could move fast and with more agility. He cut the other arm as it reached for where he had been. Then as the creature braced itself, two shots hit the tiniest chinks on the creature’s knees. The armour dissolved and the others came in for the killing blows. Kolivan was rushed by something and saw multiple swords rammed straight through the chest of the beast and another cut the head off. 

Then there was a sort of in between state as he saw blue smoke. Then he saw the stars and constellations of Earth and the feel of grass and a slight nibbling as the Goatee munched on his hair. No trace of the storm that was howling less than a few seconds before. He turned and looked up into into eyes of brilliant blue, the moonlight dusting freckles, and an expression that made him feel everything all at once as concern was etched on that perfect face. 

Blue then vanished again and Kolivan was coughing through the smoke the same colour as the man's eyes. He rushed in the building and saw them all vanish one by one. Then only the one with silver white hair and pink armour and Blue were left. 

“Lance, come on,” she said, her voice full of authority and yet so very ethereal. They all had been, he thought, each in their own way. 

The one in pink then vanished and left Lance standing alone. 

“Lance,” the name had fallen out of his mouth and it felt so good to hear it, to say it. Lance looked up, something like fear in his eyes just before he too vanished.

 

It took a few days to regain his composure. Kolivan was used to seeing things on the moor, hell he had memorised most the ghost stories of the moors, and for some reason this _still_ wasn't the weirdest thing. Though what was weird was how much he desperately wanted to talk to Lance in person. He still spoke to the air, in the vain hope he was listening and would reappear. 

Just like the last time, the damage had been cleared and fixed but he didn't catch Lance again. 

The house felt emptier after the fight with the creature. Work carried on as usual, Antok’s occasional teasing breaking up the days. He walked the moors, with map and GPS in hand, warding off anyone foolish enough to wander onto the ranges. 

 

Then it happened again. 

 

A maelstrom of clouds formed over his house, all the purple and grey hues staining the sky with a dark ink with little sunshine breaking through and a feeling of something unnatural had passed into the work. That all was not as it was meant to be. An absolute sense of all that was wrong in the world. 

He opened the door and there was Lance, dual pistols firing at a thing, for it to then turning into a broad sword and bringing it down on something that could only have been a metre in height as a maximum, yet squat, ugly and a whole level of hell fuck no. There was a pathetic fizzle as it melted into the floorboards where an eerie glow emanated. 

For some reason Kolivan wasn't as shocked as he should have been. He made his way to the couch.

“Hey Lance, you staying this time?”

He saw Lance pale at being caught again and looked as if he was going to run. 

“Please don't go, I.” _Ugh,_ feelings, Kolivan thought to himself. “I would like to talk. You know, get to know who's been haunting my house in the most friendly way possible.” 

Lance sighed and waved his hand as the slime that covered the walls seeped away. He sat on an armchair and looked up at Kolivan with nervous eyes. 

Kolivan was no stranger to feelings and had known he was anything but straight a long while ago, even if he didn't want to put a label to it. But something in that look made him realise just why he had missed Lance, the way that he knew that it was Lance’s doing for all the small things in the house. 

“Why did you put the mugs upside down?” It was not the first thing he had wanted to ask but it was the thing that seemed to bother him the most because it just didn't make sense to him. But it also made Lance immediately relax. 

“You had them the wrong way!!! Do you want dusty tea?! Cos that's what you would have got. Dusty. Tea.” Oh gods, his voice. Kolivan knew he was gone. So far gone. 

“Also aren't you gonna address the elephant in the room?”

“Oh there was me thinking it was a kangaroo, never mind!” Kolivan grinned, he wanted to take the edge from Lance’s shoulders, to let him feel ok and at home. Even if he did seem to be something of the supernatural variety. 

Lance gave him a deadpan look, “The whole demons appearing? Me turning into smoke? The fact that you might just live on a gateway to a different dimension?”

“Ah, that would be good, but I live in Dartmoor. This is normal to be fair. We’ve dealt with the Hairy Hand for centuries.”

“That fucker keeps getting away! We can't keep it in check, hells damnit. It's a slithery fucker who just doesn't know when to stop. Oh my hells, just no. We will not speak of it now.”

Kolivan couldn't help but laugh. Lance was enthusiastic in his rant, and the way his nose crinkled in disgust was beyond adorable. “So you come here often?” he asked, the flirtatious note couldn't be missed. 

Lance looked at him in surprise, and went tense, a variety of emotions flickered on his face, from confusion to wondering why. “I’m a demon. You wouldn’t - shouldn’t - want me. You just shouldn't.” His tone was low and sad. 

“Why ever not?” Kolivan asked. “When you have done so much? You came back and repaired my shit, you protected me. Give me one good reason.”

“I.. Um… OK I can't, not without validating my own issues. Allura told me to not listen to them.”

“So you wanna start at the beginning? Tell me what is going on with the house?”

“Sounds like a plan. So, this house sits on one of the gates to a dimension of people that would best be called demons for humans to understand. Now, some of us, like me, are good and are part of the task force to stop some of those with no good intentions from crossing. This is the Voltron coalition, with the seven of us you saw being the main body, elite fighters who form the group Voltron. 

“For the last ten thousand years, the side that think only of blood and gore have been the dominant force, but we have been fighting back. Some of them are tamer, intent on general mischief while others have their own agenda. But that creature you helped take down? That was their main leader. Your blade must have had some elements from our dimension to cause him harm. His name was Zarkon. 

“For us, if you commit atrocities, and have the worst intentions, it shows, your appearance shows the person you truly are. It's generally acknowledged that we all fuck up but your intent is the main thing.

“So yeah, I’ve been stationed at this hell gate. It's a bit far off and sometimes it feels like I’m here alone while everyone has fun. They mean well but it's the lonely post. It makes me feel like I'm not needed but I know I am, just ten thousand years is a long time to be in the same place for the majority of it.” Lance seemed to be on the verge of tears. 

“Then you talked to me, thanking me even if you were doing things wrong. You stayed despite me trying to turn you away the second danger crossed over. I had to.”

Kolivan couldn't stand seeing Lance look so sad. He picked Lance up in a hug, his height for once an advantage, and he felt Lance stiffen at the contact before relaxing into it. 

“Please don't die yet,” Lance whimpered, “Don't fight them again, you would truly be gone for good.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

They stayed like that for a while before Lance had to return. The blue smoke lingered. 

They continued the way they, had, with the exception of Kolivan and Lance talking face to face. Those times made him feel so alive, like something he hadn't known he was missing had been found. Like his soul sang with Lance’s, and damn, if asked, he would have given it to him, instantly with no regrets, because he knew Lance would hold it tenderly. 

Lance seemed to be spending more of his free time in the house with Kolivan when he wasn't needed or patroling. He was head of his own team and was dedicated to it, but Lance seemed happier when he was with Kolivan, lighter, more ethereal. He was even glowing at some points. When he was complimented by Kolivan, or when a small flirtation was directed his way, or when he was caught staring with a small smile and wide eyes. 

They talked. Then they started to cook and eat together. They became comfy around each other and bared their souls. Then Kolivan let slip, a small utterance, one he didn't really think he would let go of. 

“Holy shit, you’re beautiful.” Lance, who was already glowing a light blue, glowed as blue as the darkest shade in his eyes. A hand came up to cover the wide grin on his face, clearly flustered. 

“You're not half bad yourself,” his reply came, muffled from the hand, trying to hide it all.

“Lance?”

“Mmm?”he replied, his face now entirely covered by his hands, 

“Can I kiss you?” The hands came down and hope danced in Lance’s eyes as they were trained on Kolivan. 

Soft hands cupped Kolivan’s face as their lips met. It was hungry but gentle, and a long time coming. Kolivan wrapped Lance in his arms, cradling him to his chest while Kolivan’s fingers danced in the ends of Lance’s hair. Lance traced the scar that marred his left side and kissed deeper, wanting more, giving more. 

That blue glow shone through so much that it felt like they were under the ocean with all the hues of it that surrounded them. They broke apart, and Kolivan felt like he was, there were no words that he needed, just _existing_ with Lance was more than enough. 

“Did I forget to mention I'm the one that controls water?” To emphasise his point, droplets of water flew at Kolivan’s face and a devious smile made an appearance on Lance’s face.

“No, but it makes sense, you're all kinds of blue. The best kinds.”

Blue light exploded everywhere and Lance smiled into another kiss. 

 

Things changed somewhat. Kolivan, opened up to Lance and in return Lance bared his soul to him. There were many kisses for any reason they could find. They shared a bed now, usually with them entangled under the sheets. They had never really stated what they were, but the first time Kolivan said those three little words, saw Lance’s entire being _just shine_ and hear them back? Kolivan swore that nothing had felt more right in his life. Then bit by bit, more of Lance’s things started to live in his house. Soon it felt like they had been married for years upon years rather than the year it had been since Kolivan had first learnt Lance’s name.

But the fateful question came up. 

“I don't know what I’m going to do when you leave,” Lance whispered into the air.

“I’m not leaving soon. I promised you I’d always love you,”

“Till your dying breath but that's the problem. I can’t follow when you die.”

“Is there a way? I’ll do it. I never want to leave you.” 

“You wouldn't, but I’d own you. It’s hell. Literally it’s done with the worst intentions. A deal for your soul. I can't do that. I would lose everything I am, and I wouldn't even know you. There was a demon, Lotor, he thought he could, and he went mad. He held the person to his every whim. I can't be like that. I won't be like that.”

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m not gonna demand that of you. I’m not gonna pop my clogs just yet. But either way, I love you, and I gave you my all long ago. I love you.” Kolivan peppered Lance with kisses and worshipped him as he was made to. He felt that their souls were intertwined, singing to each other, perfect harmonies of the same tune. _You have my soul already. You had it for a while now. Even if you did ask, it would already be yours._ He felt the song crescendo as he intensified his worship. Lance deserved the love. He deserved to know he was special.

One minute they were just outside of Hexworthy in the remote area of Dartmoor, then the starlight sky changed. There was a full sense of nothingness, and then the house reappeared. Still the same but with differences. This was no longer his room, and the windows showed new galaxies and nebulas in the sky.  
Lance opened his eyes as the smoke cleared. It took a second to realise that they had crossed dimensions. Shock and horror came across his face. 

“I didn't make a deal, did I?” Hells, he sounded so scared. Kolivan hugged Lance close as he whispered his assurances. 

“I think, no, I know, it's been yours for a while. You never had to ask or make a deal for it. It's been yours. Given freely. I have no regrets.”

“Koli, your eyes, they're, they're beautiful.” Lance directed them to the mirror. In this dimension, Lance fit, as he had been born here, and lived for a minimum of ten thousand years. Kolivan had not, he had been so very mortal and compared to Lance? So very fragile. Though, now there were subtle differences but he had changed. His own eyes now glowed gold, small markings appeared over his body and face. And most of all? He felt different, like this was what he was born for. 

“Does this mean we have forever?”

“I think it does.” Lance replied with the biggest smile Kolivan had seen.

“Great, now I have to plan my fake death!!” he exclaimed and the laughter bubbled inside of him.

“Is that so bad, my love?”

“No, no it's not.” Kolivan kissed Lance again, and it felt right, especially after knowing that they had eternity and longer.

**Author's Note:**

> AHAHAHHAHAHAH I HOPE YOURE HAPPY!! ESPECIALLY AFTER THE FIRST DAY FOR THIS EVENT!!!!
> 
> Comments and Kudos mean the world to me honestly xxx
> 
> Extra note. Im gonna stop writing. Im gonna finish the current fic im writing and the one for the big bang i got involved in. I just? Im so insecure and even though i know i dont need validation its nice to have it. Theres so much i want to say but i d9nt want to be a moaning bitch desperate for attention. Tbh this aint gonna be seen who am i even kidding. No ones gonna notice so yeah. Ive enjoyed posting and writing but it no longer makes me happy sharing them. Im so so sorry. One day i may post again but not anytime aoon for new fics.


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